Teach me?
by Ryua Malfoy
Summary: Faced with nothing but darkness and hardship over the next year, Hermione takes a little time out to visit an old friend. Content has been toned down, but the rating is there for a reason.


The next year was going to be awful. The summer had already started off in a horrible way; it didn't matter that it was the best course of action, destroying her family had been the most painful thing she'd ever done.

So, when Hermione found she had a week to herself, she felt entirely justified in taking a little bit of a vacation to visit an old friend. The little mountain villa in Bulgaria was just as she remembered it, and she took in a deep, soothing breath of the clear, cool air to help settle the apparition dizziness.

To her relief, the confusion on Viktor Krum's face as he strode out of his front door changed into pleased surprise. "Hermonie, so pleased to see you. Vot brings you here to Bulgaria?"

She smiled and ran forwards for a friendly hug that she let herself savor for maybe a few moments too long. "Sorry for just dropping in like this, Viktor. I… I just wanted to visit a friend for a few days. Would that be alright?"

"Of course," he said, pulling back to look at her. "You are always velcome here. Come in, I shall make you some tea."

Any lingering sense of guilt over dropping in unannounced melted as she followed him back into his house. It was a charming little place, wood and stone, built into the side of the mountain. He tapped a kettle with his wand, steam starting to emerge from the tip. The tea he poured was black and strong, a blend she'd never been able to find in England, and though he didn't drink it with milk, somehow, the flavor didn't need the cream to smooth it out at all.

"So, how long are you staying?" he asked, grabbing a tin of shortbread to go with the cookies. "I haff no games until September."

"I was thinking about a week, if you don't mind my staying that long," Hermione said, taking a biscuit as he proffered the tin. Bill and Fleur's wedding was coming up next week, and she had promised to arrive a few days early to help. That would be fun too, but different than this.

"Hermonie, you may stay as long as you like," he said, with one of the rare smiles that transformed his glowering, predatory face into something heart-melting. "Anytime."

.oOo.

And so she stayed. He tried to insist she take his bed, but she refused to have him sleep on the couch in his own home. With a few extra pillows and blankets, she was quite comfortable, and thoroughly enjoyed waking up as the morning sun shone through the front windows. They shared the cooking; Viktor had three or four dishes he cooked very well… and exclusively. He welcomed Hermione's contributions, tasty casseroles, eggs-and-toast, where the eggs were poached inside the toast itself, a raisin pudding one night for dessert.

They talked a lot… or rather, Hermione talked and Viktor listened. He had always measured his words very carefully, and that hadn't changed over the years. He offered occasional insights, brief replies, and was mostly just there, willing to listen to anything she had to say. She found herself talking about everything, even her plans for the upcoming year in a very vague sense, to protect him. If he didn't know what she was up to or where she was going after the wedding, he'd be far safer. She even talked about Ron, how she felt about him, how he frustrated her, how she worried they'd never get a chance to really be together.

And he never got upset, either. They had a bit of history together, and both of them had enjoyed it… but with their different countries, and vastly different lives and schedules, they had mutually decided to continue as friends, rather than trying to date. That didn't seem fair to either of them. And now, he just gave her endless, quiet support, sometimes offering insight into why Ron had a certain behavior around her, or a possibility for getting along a little easier next time they squabbled.

After an evening of quiet contemplation, Viktor spoke up, which was unusual enough for him. "You really do care for Ronald, don't you? You speak of him in a different tone than everybody else."

"I… yes, I do," she said, flushing a little as she sipped her tea. "I'm sorry for nattering on at you about him for so long."

"Vot is this… natter? Never mind. I can guess," he said, waving a hand. "And do not apologize. I am pleased you are pleased. I vondered how far you two had gotten?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, the blush in her cheeks deepening. "We… we haven't gone much farther than kissing sometimes…"

"Ah. That is what I thought," he said, sounding, if anything, faintly worried. "Hermonie… I vorry about you and he together. You haff no experience."

"Well… yes, I suppose he'll be the one to take my virginity," she said, squirming a bit in her chair. Not entirely to her surprise, Viktor made a disgusted sound, but not for the reason she half-expected.

"Is stupid idea, virginity," he scoffed. "Thought up by rich, selfish noblemen who do not know how to please their vomen. Does not exist."

Hermione turned towards him, embarrassment melting away in the face of curiosity. "Why do you say that? It's common knowledge… the hymen breaking, blood on the sheets and so on."

"Stupid lie," he said again. "No reason for a woman to bleed. Nothing to tear, not if it is done right. In Bulgaria, all young adults are taught how. Nobody should cry, nobody should regret. First time can be awkward, but never painful."

"I've never heard you so… passionate about something," Hermione said, intrigued by this side of him.

He looked at her, his face stern, but his eyes warm. "I care about you, Hermonie. I do not vant you to hurt. I do not care who you choose to share your bed vith, as long as it only brings you joy."

She was silent for a long while, and so was he. Considering the topic of conversation, it was a surprisingly comfortable science. "Viktor… would you show me?"

He turned to her in surprise, his face getting harder to see in the growing dark. He waved a hand idly, and a lamp ignited, bathing them both in a dim, warm glow. "I did not think you vould ask. Hoped, perhaps," he said with a grin. "But did not expect." As if expecting her to change her mind if he gave her the chance, he reached for her hand, setting down his cup of tea.

She took it, finishing her last sip, and stood up to follow him. "I mean… I've read a lot of books on the matter. But I don't want… I don't want to disappoint him, you know?"

He turned back to look at her, and cupped her cheek gently, his fingers warm on her skin. "Hermonie, you could never disappoint. Vat I shall teach you is how to be loved. Being comfortable in your own pleasure is pleasing to your partner. All else vill come naturally, I promise."

Reaching behind him, he unlatched the door to his bedroom and drew her inside. The furnishings were warm and simple, a small hearth connected to the central kitchen stove, a lamp that he lit with a flick of his fingers, a wide bed piled high with quilts and pillows and blankets. A curtain hung over his modest closet, a stand held his Firebolt, and that was the extent of his furnishings.

He started to kiss her, and he was just as warm and dextrous as she remembered, his lips firm with just the right amount of softness on hers. A part of her was still a little nervous, but it was an excited kind of nerves. His hands were light on her body, and when he pulled back from her slightly, her cheeks were flushed pink with pleasure.

"The idea of undressing while kissing or already in bed may be erotic… but is actually awkward," he said, his voice low and rich. "This is much better… and there is no reason to vaste such a lovely sight." Indeed, the way his eyes travelled over her form as he undid her sweater one button at a time was flattering, and pleasant.

"And now me," he said, after sliding her sweater down off her arms, his fingers almost burning hot on her skin. "For this time, ve do things as equals, yes?" He raised his arms over his head, and Hermione reached forwards with only the slightest hesitation, sliding the heavy knit sweater up, tugging it over his head. While he carried himself awkwardly, hunched and duck-footed, none of that seemed to matter now. She saw only the strength in his torso, the way his muscles shifted as he pulled his arms down, the gentleness of his dextrous fingers as he reached for her again. Somehow, the oddity of his posture seemed perfect, rather than detracting from his form.

Another kiss, just as light as the first, a part of her realized. And yet, with his bare chest and stomach pressed to hers, it _felt_ completely different. No book had ever gotten that point across, somehow. This time, he pulled back less, his hands rising up to her back, resting on the clasp of her bra. She realized he was waiting to see if she wanted him to continue. Wordlessly, she nodded, feeling a little thrill as he undid the clasp, sliding it down off of her arms.

His hands skimmed up her sides, cupping her breasts gently, smiling as she made a soft, breathy sigh. "As beautiful as the rest of you, of course," he said softly, his hands travelling back down over her belly to her waist.

"Surely you've seen more attractive women," Hermione demurred. He was an internationally famous Quidditch star, after all, women threw themselves at him.

"If I had or no, this is not the time to be thinking of them," he murmured, fingertips almost tickling as he lightly caressed her stomach and sides. "But honest, Hermonie, you are most beautiful." He stepped closer to her, tilting his head down to kiss her neck, and she gasped, her head tilting back. His fingers were gentle and light as he brushed her hair to the side, the curls tickling ever so pleasantly on her back. "Now… though men and vomen are different, the same things feel good to both," he said softly against her neck and shoulder, his hands sliding down her back and caressing gently over the curve of her ass. He didn't slip under her pants, not yet, but she was starting to wish he would.

However, taking his words as instruction, she ran her hands up over his own back, holding him against her as he did delightful things to her neck. She shivered with anticipation and a bit of nervousness as she pulled him right close to her and felt his hardness pressing against her. "Not to vorry… I go very slow," he chuckled, guessing what had prompted her shudder. "No fears for you, dear Hermonie. Now, onto the bed for you." He pushed her back ever so gently, and she sat down when she felt the bed against the back of her legs.

She shivered again as he slid his fingers under her waistband, both reassured and maybe a little disappointed that he carefully left her panties on her hips. Obligingly, she lifted her hips and scooted backwards, flattered to watch the way his gaze followed her long legs as they slipped free of the fabric. He crawled forwards onto the bed on top of her, and her heart pounded faster, full of excitement that was just a little too good to be called fear. She reached up and pulled his head down, kissing him again, and he responded eagerly. His lips and tongue were so good against hers, sending thrills of pleasure down her body, pooling between her legs where she was feeling very warm and wet.

She felt him shifting position, easing his own pants down with a groan of relief. Hermione supposed that much tightness must have been getting uncomfortable. He didn't immediately drop down between her legs, though. While she was glad of his restraint, at this point she was almost starting to be impatient with it. She really WANTED him at this point, even if she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted.

"Vant more, do you?" he asked, his voice faintly teasing. She looked up into his knowing smirk, and was too enraptured to scowl at him. She just nodded, and gasped wordlessly as his hand slid down between her legs, running lightly over her panties. They were soaked and slippery to a degree that astounded her, and she was faintly embarrassed for a moment. Due to the pleased sound he made, however, she realized she probably shouldn't be.

His fingers were light at first, teasing and tickling and oh-so-pleasurable as he ran them lightly over her panties. Just when the teasing got frustrating, he increased the pressure, making her moan softly. It had never felt like that when she'd done it to herself, so intense that it sent constant shivers of delight through her body. "These come off now?" He phrased it as a question, and she eagerly started to push them down. She could smell her own arousal, wondered if he would be upset that she didn't shave, and blushed, embarrassed again.

Still, he certainly didn't seem to mind, sitting back for just a moment to look at her, a pleased smile on his face and an enormous tent in his boxers proving that he wasn't at all offended by any part of her. To her surprise, instead of moving up to kiss her again, he slid backwards, pulling her legs gently apart as he leaned down. Hermione cried out in surprise and delight at the feel of his tongue flicking ever so gently against her. She couldn't seem to keep her body still as he kissed and licked and sucked, but he didn't seem to mind at all. His hands on her hips were light, just holding her sort of in place while allowing her to squirm and shift as much as she needed to.

By the time he seemed satisfied with what he was doing, Hermione was a quivering mess, her fingers tight in the sheets, her hair tousled and skin flushed. "Ready for more?" he asked, to her slightly incredulous laugh. There was more? She nodded, watching curiously as he sucked two of his fingers, then dropped his hand back down between her legs. She moaned and writhed as he thoroughly explored her body, bringing her to the brink of pleasure so often she seemed to just stay there endlessly.

She lost complete track of time, but when he said, "Now, if you are ready for me, Hermonie?" she nodded vigorously, whining in disappointment as his fingers slid slowly out of her. That didn't last for long, however, as a few moments later, he moved between her legs properly, and she looked down to see him fully naked now, obviously eager to continue as he spread something slippery over himself, yet more preparation to ensure she felt no pain, only pleasure.

When he entered her, she cried out in delight, astounded at the intense sensation, the sensation of sliding and friction and oh-so-intense pressure and pleasure. She had no idea how long he rode her, her hands running over his back, fingers digging into his skin. "I haff spell... no pregnancy," he breathed in her ear, his breath ragged. "You wish for me to come in you?"

"Yes!" she gasped, suddenly wanting nothing more. Her nails dug into his back as he drove into her, groaning as he released. She squeaked slightly as he didn't quite collapse on top of her, her arms wrapping around his back loosely.

He rolled off of her after a few moments, and she felt an odd sense of loss as his softening shaft slid free of her. "And now, ve sleep," he murmured, kissing her neck softly as he tugged a quilt up and over them. She snuggled back against his chest, sighing happily as his arm draped over her body. She could feel his softening erection still pressing against her back, damp with fluids, and thought that maybe a shower was a good idea. However, that would mean getting up from this delightfully comfortable bed, and she decided that could wait until morning.


End file.
